


Salvage

by ZaliaChimera



Series: Growing Pains [2]
Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angst, Caning, Canon Gay Character, Canon Queer Character, Catholic Guilt, Catholic School, Catholicism, Coming Out, Corporal Punishment, Friendship, Gen, High School, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Male Homosexuality, Queer Themes, Season/Series 02 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 14:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16914522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZaliaChimera/pseuds/ZaliaChimera
Summary: Simon has a real treat for Jack but perhaps he hasn’t thought it through very well.





	Salvage

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Simon's backstory and Season 02

“Oh, Jacky-boy, have I got a treat for you!” Simon throws his arm around Jack’s shoulders, tugging him close.

“Oi! Gerroff,” Jack says, making absolutely no effort to pull away, not more than a token protest anyway. “Idiot,” he adds, squirming so that he can grin at Simon.

“How can you say that to someone about to introduce you to the wonders of the world?” Simon asks dryly, and he ruffles Jack’s hair until Jack tries to elbow him in the ribs. Simon jumps back before it hits, laughing brightly.

“As long as it’s not White Lightning again,” Jack says with a grimace. “I think I got pretty well introduced to that going down _and_ coming up.

Simon sniggers and shakes his head. “Even better than that.”

“What is it then?”

“Ah-ah,” Simon says, wagging his finger at Jack. “Can’t show you here. Come on.” He sets off at a brisk enough pace that Jack has to follow as he turns up the snicket behind the post office. It’s shaded by trees on either side which overhang the fences of the gardens on the left, fields behind the trees on the right.

“Wait up!” Jack calls after him and Simon turns around, walking backwards until Jack catches up. “Bloody tall people and their freakishly long legs,” Jack grumbles.

“Well, y'know, maybe if you hadn’t started smoking,” Simon says, giving him a thoroughly disapproving look.

Jack rolls his eyes and huffs in annoyance. “God, not you too, Si. You’re as bad as my mum.”

“Maybe your mum has a point,” Simon replies. “You’ll never be a top athlete if you keep it up.”

“I don’t want to. I’d have to give up fun stuff!” Jack protests. “Like fags and TV and… and stuff.”

“Clearly you don’t pay attention to footballers,” Simon says dryly, his grin turning lascivious. “And besides, I’ve got some of that ‘other stuff’ to show you so hurry up and get a move on.”

He takes a sharp left when the path turns to fields and follows the line of a mostly broken down and rusted barbed wire fence towards the woodland at the other end of the field. Another fence to climb and then there’s a nice dry patch beneath the trees where they can sit, shielded from anyone who might be walking past. Simon dumps his bag onto the ground and kneels to root through it, pulling out a couple of battered magazines which he brandishes triumphantly. He smooths out the bent corners as best he can, and then looks up at Jack, his grin wide and wild.

“Just feast your eyes on this, Jack, the finest dirty mags that Saint Thomas’s has to offer!”

He knows. He’s seen all the competition.

He offers one of them to Jack but then catches sight of his face and the definite lack of enthusiasm there. Jack actually looks sort of pale and sick and reluctant as he reaches out to take it.

 

“Yeah, this is…” Jack begins, flipping through the first couple of pages where Simon knows for a fact that there’s a really sexy blond wearing nothing but bra and knickers, “…really… great.”

Simon deflates a little and glances down at his own magazine. This isn’t the reaction that he’d been expecting. “It’s alright!” he says earnestly, raking a hand through his messy hair, “no-one’s gonna find out.”

Jack smiles but it’s obviously forced, his lips drawn tight, more like a grimace. “Yeah. I guess. Thanks Simon. It’s great. Really.”

He starts flipping through the pages more quickly and in anyone else, Simon would take it as eagerness. He’d be eager. But the way Jack looks, he knows it’s nothing even close. It’s like he’s hurrying to get through the mag as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, it doesn’t seem like such a great idea. Simon looks down at the magazine in his hands and then back at Jack, his appetite for it suddenly gone and replaced with angry frustration, an ugly roar in his head.

“Forget it,” he snaps, snatching the magazine from Jack’s hands and shoving both of them roughly back into his bag, his movements sharp and jerky. Jack gives him a bewildered look, blue eyes huge and wide.

“Simon…” There’s a pleading note to his voice.

Simon swings his bag up onto his shoulders and turns to face him, his expression as blank as he can make it. He’s not that good. He’s pretty sure everything shows. “What?”

Jack stares down at the floor, kicking at the dirt with the toe of his trainer. “I- I’m sorry. I’m just not into that sort of stuff.

Simon snorts, a sound of disbelief and frustration. “Everyone’s into this stuff, Jack. We’re teenage boys.” Simon spent enough time around them to know that.

“Well not me,” Jack says, an answering hint of anger in his usually calm voice. “I’m not interested in dumb magazines of naked girls, okay?”

“Why, are you gay?” Simon asks, a casual cruelty that he’s heard used countless times at school. He says it teasingly, mostly, and the taunt is usually enough to dissolve any argument in frustrated protestations of innocence before the whole thing is laughed off as ridiculous.

He doesn’t expect Jack to go dead still, hands clenched and knuckles white. He definitely doesn’t expect the first that connected with the side of his face, snapping his head to the side. Pain blossoms along his jaw and he tastes blood, a split lip.

He gives Jack a shocked look, reaching up to touch his face.

Jack shakes out his hand, grimacing, but his eyes are still fierce.”Fuck you, Simon,” he says, voice thick with emotion; is it hurt? “Just- fuck you.”

He turns and flees headlong back across the field, leaving Simon there alone with his stupid, stupid magazines.

The walk back home is very long and very lonely.

There’s no hiding the redness of his jaw when he gets home, or the speckles of blood on his shirt where he’d spat it out.

“Fighting again?” His nan clucks disapprovingly, her eyes stern beneath steel grey hair. She presses her fingers against the slowly colouring bruise, and Simon hisses and flinches back. She grabs his chin, forcing him to look at her again, her bony fingers digging in. It doesn’t matter that he’s taller than her now by a couple of inches, or that he’s filling out with muscle where he’d been gangly before. She still towers over him.

“You bring shame on this family, Simon Lauchlan,” she says, an old familiar tirade in her faintly Irish accent. “It’s That Man’s influence in you. You’ll end up just like your mother.”

“I can’t really avoid it if you won’t even tell me what happened,” he replies, the words long simmering inside him finally boiling over, his voice sullen with dark anger.

The clip around the ear is not the worst that he’s ever had (his science teacher is mean with the cane and holds grudges), but it still stings and he blinks back tears.

“I won’t tolerate rudeness in this house,” nan says sternly. “I took you in out of the goodness of my heart to make sure you had a proper upbringing and didn’t fall into sinful ways. You keep this up and you know where you’re bound, don’t you?”

Simon swallows thickly past the lump in his throat. He bobs his head in agreement. “Yes nan.”

“Go clean yourself up for dinner and make sure you say your prayers properly.”

“Yes nan,” he says again, shoulders slumping as he begins the trudge upstairs.

Dinner is awful. School the next day, when he pawns off the suddenly filthy and vile magazines for a pack of Jack’s preferred brand of cigarettes, is worse.

Jack isn’t waiting for him outside the school that afternoon.

He waits. Just in case. But Jack never shows up. He’s not there the next day either and it pisses it down the day after so Simon catches the bus like he hasn’t done since him and Jack started walking together. Then it’s the weekend which stretches out endlessly with church and Sunday School and Confession, with no-one outside of all of it to take the edge off with dumb jokes and a refreshing lack of talk about damnation.

He misses him. Even if he is… you know, he misses him. First person to accept him for himself and not see either the bastard child and a problem to be solved, or someone to be pitied.

It’s Monday when he sees him again. It’s on the way home and he’s walking with a gaggle of other boys. Simon hangs back but it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing and Jack spots him quickly.

He wants to be spotted. That’s totally why. Of course it is.

Much to his relief, well, and trepidation, Jack says goodbye to his friends and hangs back until Simon reaches him.

 

“What do you want?” he asks, and he looks like a little kid right now, all sulky and stubborn, arms folded around himself.

“I thought,” Simon begins, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, “thought we could walk home together.” God he wishes he didn’t sound so desperate, that he could sound cool and dismissive like nothing matters. Except Jack does matter.

“Dunno if I want to,” Jack replies bluntly.

Simon shrinks in on himself, and then remembers something. He digs into his bag to find the cigarettes and holds them out to Jack like a peace offering. Which he supposes they are really. “I got you these.”

Jack gives him a hard look, as if he’s expecting Simon to snatch them away from him. It’s telling and it makes Simon’s heart sink to see his friend so hurt and mistrustful. He finally takes the packet and immediately lights up, taking a long drag. “Alright, I guess.”

It’s grudging agreement, but better than nothing, even if they do end up walking silence for most of the way. Simon keeps trying to speak, but the words strangle him, knotted cords around his tongue. They’re at the corner shop by the time he even manages it.

“So… are you?” he asks quietly, looking at Jack from the corner of his eye.

 

“Why? Are you gonna take the piss again?”

“No!” Simon says earnestly. “No, I- I just wanted to know. Really,” he adds when Jack doesn’t seem at all convinced.

Jack sighs, exhaling a plume of grey smoke, the cigarette dangling between his fingers. “Yeah. I mean, I’m pretty sure. Figure straight guys don’t run away from girls who want to snog them to jerk off in the bathroom to a poster of David Bowie.”

Simon considers this for a moment. “Ziggy Stardust, Thin White Duke or Jareth? Which Bowie are we talking about here because I’m pretty sure everyone’s had an unfortunate boner over Bowie at some point.”

Jack snorts and is that? Yeah, it’s a smile! A small one, but it’s better than a frown by a mile. “Right,” he says dryly. “Is that a common thing at boys’ schools?”

Simon shrugs. “Relatively. I mean, for the boarders anyway. You live in a dorm and someone’s gonna see you wank at some point.”

“Oh god,” Jack snorts, shaking his head. “That is just gross.”

“You started it,” Simon says, venturing a grin of his own.

“I did not!” Jack says, and bumps his shoulder companionably. Simon swears he feels a knot of tension ease somewhere inside him. “You really are an arsehole, y'know,” Jack adds, a touch more seriously.

Simon’s throat bobs when he swallows, staring down at the cracked pavement. “Yeah. I’m- I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to be a dick about it. Didn’t know I was, it’s just what you say at school, right?”

Jack nudges him again, harder this time, a definite rebuke. “Yeah, which I have to listen to every day, Simon. You think it makes it feel any better just because no-one means it like that. Oh no, it’s so funny, 'cause everyone knows queers are the butt of a joke that no-one wants to be.”

There’s viciousness in his voice, a deep angry hurt that makes Simon take a step back, recoiling in the face of such deep emotion. And it was his fault.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, raising his head to look Jack square in the eye and if he gets punched again, well, he probably deserves it. “I’m really really sorry.”

“Yeah well, you should be,” Jack says and punches his arm lightly. “Idiot.”

“Never claimed to be smart,” Simon says. “Are we okay man?”

Jack takes a breath and for a moment, a horrible moment, Simon thinks he’s gonna say no. Gonna walk away. It’s not like he’ll die if Jack does, but he does make the days a bit more fun. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Simon breaks out into a grin of sheer relief and he immediately wraps his arm around Jack’s shoulders, pulling him close for a moment, although he can’t quite help but feel a bit self-conscious now that he knows Jack likes boys. He’s just heard too much stuff for it not to sink in a bit.

Jack seems to notice, 'cause he extracts himself, gives Simon a curious look. “I figured you wouldn’t want to be friends now actually. I mean, I’m glad you do but I thought…”

“I’m already damned,” Simon says lightly, “I’m pretty sure just being friends with someone who’s gay isn’t actually anything they can get me for.”

“If you’re not gonna take it seriously,” Jack says, rolling his eyes.

Simon grabs his hand and pulls him back. “Sorry. I don’t like serious stuff. Messes with my head.” He goes silent for a moment, chewing on his lip pensively as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I thought about it. Did a lot of thinking. But… we’re friends. And I don’t see how you being gay,” his voice drops to a whisper unintentionally, “changes anything. You’re still my friend, I just… know not to bring Big Breasted Beauties with me next time. Maybe Footballers Weekly?”

Jack’s just staring at him and for a moment Simon thinks that he’s going to cry. He gives a watery chuckle and nods. “Maybe you’re not that thick after all.”

“Awww, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” Simon says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jack says. “You’ve used your one free pass.”

Simon nods seriously, and then gives him a smile, wide and teasing. “So, what kind of magazines do you like?”


End file.
